


The Taste of Ashes

by stormlinde



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-05-16 22:51:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormlinde/pseuds/stormlinde
Summary: When Berkut meets his end, there is nobody there to comfort him. When he wakes up on the other side, he realizes he must face the consequences of his actions.





	1. Chapter 1

The memory of a ballroom came back to him.

Torches were glowing in the sconces upon the wall, throwing a golden warmth over the twirling figures on the floor. Lords and ladies all, they spun and frolicked to the music, laughing gaily as they whirled. Every face was smiling, except one.

She stood against the far wall, her hands clasped demurely in front of her, eyes cast down at floor. Despite standing apart, the empty space around her only drew the eye in her direction, and there were several heads that turned in her direction before leaning in with others and whispering.

When the crowd was focused on the emperor rising to give a speech, she slipped out through a back door, unnoticed except by one.

He followed.

She was in the gardens, winding a path through the trellises and flowers, her fingers brushing the leaves as she passed. She stepped lightly from foot to foot, her skirts dipping and swaying to a waltz he could not hear.

He cleared his throat. “You there. What are you doing?”

She turned at the sound of his voice, and gasped at the sight of his face.

_Ugh…_

The garden swam in front of his eyes as a stab of pain lanced through his body. Her form was dissolving in a red glare, flames licking across her face. 

_No,_ he thought. _Don’t go. Rinea, please…_

The fire was becoming unbearable. He closed his eyes to the glare, screwing them shut in an attempt to block out the flames, but they remained. Flames burned brighter in the dark.

“Berkut!”

He opened his eyes.

He was lying on a cold stone floor. The bonfire of the altar was burning low, its crackling the only sound in the room. There was a pool of something wet spreading out under him, but he couldn’t move his body. Whenever he tried to move, there was pain. And kneeling over him was Alm. His sword was cast aside, his face furrowed in an expression of concern.

Rudolph’s son, the true heir to Rigel. The man who had taken everything from him. Why did he look so worried? Was it pity? Berkut would have spit his pity back in his face, if he’d had the strength to do it. 

Alm was speaking now, but his words were distant, meaningless. Berkut didn’t want to hear his platitudes or false compassion. It was only the word “family” that jolted him back to earth.

“Why, Berkut? To have finally found family after all this time… Why did it come to this?!” Alm sounded almost grief-stricken. 

“Family?” Berkut sneered. “I have no family…nor do I want for one. Now stop talking and finish this. End me, and you can stand alone as inheritor of Rigel’s royal blood.” 

There was anger in Alm’s voice as he replied, “I never wanted that! Don’t you get it? I’ve spent enough of my life alone!”

It was hard to keep the scorn out of his voice. “That is the life of royalty. You stand above everyone, you keep your secrets close, you trust nobody but yourself. You will always be alone.”

“I don’t believe it. Even a king has people he trusts, people he loves. My father had Mycen, and he had you. He loved you, I know he did.”

Idiot boy. Berkut wondered how it was possible to be so sheltered, so naive. “He used me. I was a pawn to him, a placeholder to be swept aside when I was no longer needed. When he got his true son back again.” 

Alm’s face hardened. “Say what you will about what my father did to you. You still had Rinea. She loved you with all her heart, anyone could have seen it. She stood at your side and supported you through all of this. Will you deny that too?”

The fire sputtered, sparks leaping into the air.

Berkut’s voice caught in his throat as he tried to speak. A memory too terrible for words was struggling to rise through the mire of his thoughts. He tried to force it back down. “Rinea…she loved me, it’s true. And I…” The fire was dancing in his eyes again, blinding him. “I….” The heat was searing him, his skin blistering and burning. “I can’t…I don’t…” A distant scream was echoing in his ears. The taste of ashes was dry and bitter on his tongue.

Watching him, Alm reached out of his line of sight to pick something off the floor. Wordlessly he pressed it into Berkut’s hand. Berkut lifted his hand to see the flower, singed around the edges.

“You killed her, Berkut.”

“Lies.”

“You sacrificed her to Duma for power. We couldn’t do anything to save her after she became a witch. She’s gone.”

 _No,_ he told himself. _It’s not possible._ But the memory was twisting and fighting inside his head, until it would not be held back any longer. Something in him unlocked, and it all came rushing back; his desperation, his madness, his screaming lust for anything that would give him power. He’d stumbled into the altar convinced his whole life had been a lie, completely worthless. And then…

Rinea found him. She asked him to accept a simple life without the throne. She had never wanted to be an empress, she claimed…and something inside him had snapped. He called Duma’s power down upon them. The fire had roared, rising higher than his head, there was a scream, and a dark cloud came rushing in to obscure everything that happened after. 

Berkut stared at the flower in his hand dumbly. _Rinea. My empress, my love._ It could not be real. Alm was lying to him. He crushed the flower in his hand, the petals shredding like paper.

A sudden burst of pain made him groan. He had never felt such pain before. His body was getting weaker by the moment, and he knew it was only a matter of time now. _I was to be emperor of all Valentia. And here I meet my end at the hands of a farm boy, in a dim and dank altar far underground._

Alm was speaking again, and again his words were far away. His face was panicked as he looked into Berkut’s. He couldn’t understand why. The edges of his vision were starting to darken, as though the fire was finally burning out entirely. Even the pain was starting to leave him. 

As he closed his eyes, his thoughts went back to Rinea. In his mind’s eye she saw him and smiled, holding out her hand. A white light shone behind her, inviting him, as if all he had to do was take her hand and follow. He reached out, stretching his fingers towards hers…and her figure crumbled into dust as he touched it. He felt a sickening swoop in his stomach, and suddenly he was falling through the darkness, on and on and on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Berkut wakes up and finds himself in lands unknown, but not alone.

The last thing Berkut remembered, he was falling through an endless darkness. It was a strange darkness, thin and cold, and deathly silent, without even a wind rushing by him as he fell. And it was blacker than any night he had ever known. 

Perhaps his eyes were closed. He didn’t know. He was no longer feeling the sensation of falling. He felt nothing, not even his hair brushing his forehead or the sensation of his clothes. The conspicuous absence of the weight of his armor made him feel naked. He saw nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing.He thought of nothing. His mind was blank, empty. He simply existed.

Floating in that darkness, Berkut was strangely at peace. There was no more rage in him. There was no enemy to fight. His hands were empty. Harmless. He might have stayed there for only seconds, or years, before he heard something. It was only a distant murmur, but he heard it.

_Fall down,_ whispered something from the dark. A low crooning. It might have been nothing more than a susurrus of smoke. _Fall down and stay here, always._

At the sound, something deep inside him stirred. A part of him that still remembered who he was began to awaken. Something in him knew this was wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

The voice continued, and it seemed as if it came from all around him, some creature circling him in the dark and whispering at him. Or maybe it was the dark.

_Here you are safe. Why would you leave such safety to weather the slings and arrows outside? Stay here and you will never have to face such judgement again._

His mind was returning bit by bit, one fragment of a memory at a time. The pieces were trying to fit themselves together, but the images were too sharp. The shattered pieces of his life blazed before his eyes as if lit on fire, and Berkut remembered. Suddenly his body, so numb before, could feel again. A fine, white hot pain pricked at his whole body, his returned consciousness of his body only amplifying the sensation. He would have screamed, but he found his voice was gone.

_You see how painful it is to move on,_ the voice continued, slightly louder now. _It will only get worse from here, and in the end salvation may be denied you after all. Why do you insist on fighting?_

Berkut tried to answer, but his voice refused to obey. He wanted to tell the darkness that fighting was the only path he’d ever known. It was his only answer to every obstacle ever set in his path. If he did not fight, he was nothing. He had no other choice.

The voice chuckled. Or perhaps it was merely a sigh of wind. _Wind?_ Berkut waited. Sure enough, he felt the lightest breath of wind riffling through his hair. Its touch was soothing and cool…and almost familiar. Berkut had never felt anything so wonderful. 

_You are stubborn. You are willful. You are proud, and arrogant, and it has led to your demise. Must you learn the same lesson twice? If you move on, you will not change, and this time there will be no more chances._

If he had his tongue, Berkut would have told the darkness he would rather die on his feet than spend eternity on his knees in this darkness. 

The darkness seemed to grin, as if it sensed his defiance. _Fool of a prince. I ask you one last time. Berkut, of the house of Rudolph, son of Rigel. Will you fall?_

This time when he opened his mouth, his voice came at his command. A single word was all he needed.

“No.”

As soon as the word was spoken, Berkut heard a splintering crack, as if space was tearing itself apart. Then a rush of wind, so loud it deafened him, but under the cacophony the voice of the darkness could still be heard. 

_So be it._

The wind dissipated as quickly as it had come. His body still tingling, Berkut was aware of something soft under him. A damp, earthy scent tickled his nose. And there was a light pressing on his eyelids, warm and golden. He opened his mouth and gasped, sucking in what felt like his first breath. And then he opened his eyes.

A blue sky stretched out above him where he lay in the dappled shadows of a great tree. The air was cool and crisp, and the sun shone. He looked down at his body. His armor was gone, replaced by a simple tunic and trousers. He had no weapon, no shield, not even a dagger. It made him feel naked all over again.

Slowly, he stood. Around him, green hills stretched off into the distance, where mountain ranges made hazy stripes against the horizon. He saw red roofs some distance away, a village perhaps. It was nowhere in Rigel, he was sure of that, but it didn’t feel like Zofia either. 

He moved to take a few steps, and cursed as he stumbled and nearly fell. His legs were wobbly as a newborn foal’s, and his hands shook as he reached out to balance himself against the tree. This was not who he was supposed to be. He was a prince. He was strong. But in this moment, anybody could have pushed him over and slit his throat without even trying. 

Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any people in this place, wherever he was, so he was spared the greedy, jeering eyes of those who loved nothing more than to laugh at their betters. Upstarts and grasping fools, all of them. He was their prince. Nobody laughed at him. 

Berkut righted himself and turned, only to see her watching him from a short distance away, her hand resting on the trunk of another tree. Her fine gown was gone, replaced with a simple white dress that had no ornament besides its lacing. Her hair, flowing freely, had no flowers.

Her face, the one that haunted his dying dream. Her eyes smoldering, burning like dying embers. They found him, and pierced him. They burned him.

“Rinea.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Berkut comes face to face with what he has done.

“Rinea?!”

It was her, standing just a few feet away from him. There was no mistaking it. She was not a ghost or any other incorporeal being, but looked to be flesh, like him. Every lovely detail of her face was just as he remembered….except her eyes. The Rinea he had known had never looked at him with such ice in her eyes, with that hard set of mouth. He had hardly ever seen her so much as frown, much less at him. She never raised her voice, even in anger. Berkut dropped his gaze, then met her eyes again. He shivered.

“My lord.” 

The words were quiet as they fell from her lips. She did not curtsy.

“Rinea. I-how-“ Berkut felt as if he were back in that swirling darkness again, robbed of all his senses. His body was wooden, his tongue numb in his mouth as he tried to form words. Something in his head was wrong, the memories were all jumbling together, flashing, clashing. It was blinding him all over again.

He took a tentative step towards her, but she backed away. Was that fear in her eyes? Was she frightened of him? Why should she be frightened? Then he remembered, and the thought sent a knife through him. 

“Please do not come near me, my lord.” Her voice continued in the same distant manner as before.

“Rinea…do you…remember?” Berkut dreaded the answer, but he had to know.

Her voice was calm but matter of fact as she answered, as if she were speaking of somebody else. “Fire, and a black mist. A demonic power ripping my very soul from my body.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And then I was burning, for what felt like eternity.” Her eyes met his again, and they were accusing and sharp. “Yes, I remember.”

Another knife to his gut. He did not move towards her again, only looked at her from this short distance away. She who had once been the closest to him of anyone, his rock in that wretched world, the light of his life. She looked at him as if he were a stranger, passerby on the street of no account. No, it was worse than that. She looked at him as if he were nothing.

“I’m sorry.” He knew how pathetic the words were the moment he said them, but he didn’t know what else he could say. Not with those cold eyes boring into him, and the memory of the flames hanging in the air between them. 

“Are you?”

“Yes! Gods, yes, of course I am!” The words burst out of him now, reckless, desperate. Berkut did not know where they came from, but once he started the flow was impossible to stop. “I was wrong. I know it. I was arrogant and desperate. I was insane, I was mad. I lost sight of what was most precious to me. You, Rinea. I loved you. I still love you. I’m sorry. If I could say it a million times it wouldn’t be enough. I’m sorry.”

When his words had exhausted themselves Berkut found himself on his knees in the dirt. His head bowed, he could not even see Rinea’s reaction to his words, and he did not dare look up for fear of what he might read on her face. For several long moments she said nothing, and the only sound that passed between them was the whistling of the wind.

Her voice drifted down to him when she spoke again. “Do you expect me to forgive you?”

Berkut raised his head.

She was looking down at him, the sun behind her shadowing her face. The look on her face was all the answer he needed.

“No. But I still had to say it.”

“Then you’ve said it, my lord.” She turned as if to leave, but did not walk away. Still on his knees, he looked up at her back. Her head, held so high when she had faced him, slowly bowed. The line of her shoulders sagged, as if the strength had gone out of them. When she spoke again, her voice was edged with a tremor.

“Why did you come here?”

“Why-“ Confusion cut Berkut’s words off. “I don’t know where this is. I never meant to be here. The last thing I remember was an endless darkness, and then I woke up here.”

“I see.” 

They were both silent then. A brisk wind set the leaves of the surrounding trees to rustling. Berkut shivered, the wind cutting through his plain tunic as if it were nothing. He waited for Rinea to say something.

It was several moments before Rinea let out a long breath and lifted her head again. Berkut wanted nothing more than to go to her, to take her by the hand and kiss it, to assure her that he would always love her and protect her….but even in his head the words echoed meaninglessly, and a voice, not unlike the one that had spoken to him from the darkness, laughed mockingly. 

Rinea turned her head back to him, but only slightly. All he could see of her face was the line of her cheek as she said, “Goodbye, my lord.”

She walked away.

Slowly, Berkut struggled to his feet. Rinea’s retreating figure grew smaller and smaller until it was lost among the trees. Berkut was left alone with the wind, his empty promises still on his lips.


	4. Chapter 4

There was no night in this strange place. Nor did the sun move overhead. With no way to track the time, Berkut had no way of knowing how long he sat under that tree alone.

 _I should have stayed in that godforsaken darkness_ , he thought as he stared up at the leafy canopy overhead. Better to give up his soul to oblivion than whatever this was. Somehow he knew that no matter how far along the dirt path he walked, there was no leaving this place. He was stuck. Stuck among the rolling green hills with nothing but himself....and her. He didn’t know where Rinea had gone, but instinct told him that she was unable to leave as well. They were trapped together.

It was almost laughable. Wasn’t this what they had always wanted? To be together for eternity, ruling over their own empire. Well, they had it now. And they could hardly face each other.

A leaf fluttered down from above, spinning lazily on the breeze. Berkut caught it by the stem and twirled it idly between his fingers. Rinea had loved plants and gardens, flowers especially. She’d spend hours walking the castle grounds, taking in the sights and scents. Berkut had had the gardeners put in certain flowers just for her, some favorites from her manor garden. He had surprised her with the new plot on her birthday. The way her smile had set her eyes alight....

The Berkut in his memory was charming, gracious, loving. He had caressed Rinea’s face, smiled at her smile, felt something inside him glow at the sight of her happiness.

It seemed like a memory from a lifetime ago.

He crushed the leaf in his hand and flung it away, a bitter loathing filling him. When had the man in his memory become a stranger? When did he die? Berkut didn’t know the answer. But he knew it was long before he found himself before the burning altar in the bowels of the castle.

It was useless for him to tell himself that he had sacrificed her in a moment of madness and desperation. No desperation, however low, should have driven him to that. The black thoughts he had been suppressing were writhing in his mind, freeing themselves one by one. They formed a whirling hurricane, condemning him and accusing him.

Suddenly he was unable to sit still another moment. Getting to his feet, he ran. Feet pounding, feeling the wind rush by. The dirt path stretched out before him into the green hills and mountains beyond, but no matter how he ran, there was no escape. The hills remained tantalizingly out of reach, the mountains serene beyond them.

He had to stop to catch his breath, doubled over, his hands on his knees. Coughing, he gasped for air. Still doubled over, he looked over his shoulder to where a red roof still peeked over the hill at him. Slowly, he stood. He took one step, and then another. His eyes were not decieving him. Unlike the mountains, the red roof was growing closer. It was clear what he was supposed to do, and yet every step back only intensified his shame.

Berkut passed the tree he had woken up under and continued down the path. Here, the sunlight was not so intense. The trees grew thicker along the path, granting him a cooling shade that soothed his eyes. Soon he noticed the gentle scent of flowers on the air and the twittering of birds, though he hadn't seen another living creature since he arrived besides Rinea.

And then the path opened into a clearing. A stone manor sat amongst the trees, patches of wildflowers growing in its grasses. Ivy was beginning to creep along the stone walls, and a bench outside was close to becoming overgrown with moss. Berkut felt the melancholy air hanging over him as if it was a fog.

Silence answered his knock, and the door was locked. The shutters were drawn tightly, allowing him not even a peek into what might lie within. "Is anyone there?" he called out. But nobody came. The invisible birds had fallen silent, and the only sound was the wind rushing through the trees. It seemed nothing was going to give him an answer.

 _No._  Berkut was done wandering through this strange place, not knowing what he was meant to do. He stared up at the stone walls. Sturdy, impregnable stone, meant to defend and protect. He remembered walking the path that would only allow him one destination; this clearing, this house. Something inside this house was meant for him, he knew it in his bones. If only he could find a way inside...

"My lord?"

Somehow Rinea's voice behind him did not surprise him. She stood several feet behind him, a bunch of flowers in her arms. She did not look on him as coldly as before, but neither was her gaze the same as it was in life. Her mouth was set in resignation, her face weary as she looked at him.

She was waiting to pass, he realized. She was waiting to go inside her house. _Arrogant fool_ , he thought. "Rinea. My apologies. I did not mean to disturb you." He stepped aside quickly.

Berkut thought she would go inside as quickly as possible, but as she reached him, she stopped. She did not look at him, but said softly, "I knew you would come here eventually."

"Rinea?" It was all he dared to say.

"When I first awoke here, there was nothing." Her fingers traced the velvety petals of the flowers she carried. "Only the trees, and the grass and the flowers, the hills and the mountains. The sky above. It was quiet. And I was alone.

"I don't know how long it was before the path formed. It appeared under my feet, and I followed as it twisted its way into the woods, to this clearing. And right before my eyes, the house...grew. Like a flower, out of the ground. And I knew it was meant for me.

"When I found you, I thought maybe you would have your own. But there's been nothing, hasn't there?" She turned her eyes on him, searching.

"No," he admitted. "I tried going my own way...but the only way I was allowed to walk was here."

A sad smile crossed her face. "I was afraid you'd say that." She reached her hand out and touched the doorknob.

"Rinea–" Impulsively, Berkut reached out and touched her hand on the doorknob. They touched for only an instant, but in that instant, his mind was flooded with a barrage of images. Torches burning. Flower petals falling. Crisp night air, the glow of moonlight on leaves. Rinea's hand in his as they turned to a waltz, alone amongst her flowers. They blazed past his eyes in a whirl of color and sound...

And then it was gone. Berkut yanked his hand back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have–forgive me, Rinea." She did not acknowledge his words, only turned her face away from him again. It was more than Berkut could stand, this silent dance around futile words and gestures. He made his decision there.

"Rinea, tell me now. It appears that we must stay in this world together. I know I can never regain your love, but I will not hurt you further. If you would prefer that you never look upon me again, tell me so now, and I will not disturb you again." It was an effort to keep his voice smooth, but he thought he managed well.

For several moments Rinea did not speak. She took her hand from the door and stepped back. Her eyes met his.

"I think you should go inside."

It was not the answer Berkut had been expecting. All he could manage in response was, "But–it's locked." He reached out despite his words, without meaning to.

The doorknob turned.

A blinding light yawned wide as he pushed the door open. He stepped forward.


End file.
